Analysis (Services and Self)

Koan Bremner's view on life as a database and data warehouse professional / addict and non-genetic woman

Sunday, March 13, 2005

War Paint

So it's a cold but clear Sunday morning, and I'm sitting here shivering, because the central heating boiler broke down yesterday evening. Realistically, I don't imagine it will be fixed before tomorrow, so a chilly day is in prospect. "How to warm it up" I ask myself; well, I could talk for ten minutes on any random subject (that's usually guaranteed to generate sufficient hot air to fill a small concert hall); or write some in-depth technical article (my boss thinks I write too much on topics that he's not interested in, like podcasting; of course, since he won't permit me to write on at least one subject I could really could eulogise, like the cunning stuff I spend my working hours developing, it's partly a problem of his own making!) Or, I could write a poem, and share it with you, gentle reader. So here you are.

I left a comment to a post on someone else's blog recently; after I'd written the comment, I realised that the first four words had a rhythm that seemed to beg to be expanded upon.

"War Paint"

Make-up: concealer, camouflage, revealer;
What does the term mean to you?
Method to hide from the hostile outside;
Armour to face an unyielding world;
Or gloss on the final product?

For me, all three,
But mostly the latter.
One way to ensure that
You see what I see.

Without it, I'm me
Still the same me
But clad in a skin that won't set me free;
That won't let me be who I know to be
The person inside of me.

But give me a mirror
Some light, and ten minutes
And I'll put on my mask, for sure.
Cover the blemishes, fill in the wrinkles,
Lay the foundation; but more
Than all that, I'll set free my soul
And say, "there you go, there's the door".

Open, step through
(In a well-chosen shoe)
And see the outside as before;
But see it more clearly,
Feel it more dearly
Like a swimmer who makes for the shore

The world hasn't changed
In a tangible way
From the one that I lived in before
But how I live in it
And what I give to it
Is what I am doing this for.

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  • At 8:45 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Wow babes!
    Totally 'rock chick' - your words!!, but your poem means so much to me. I am mum with kids (for those who do not know me) and I can relate absolutey to all those words!See how alike we all really are?! Our skin is such a thin layer - eh!
    Jinty xxx


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